


Who Knew Christmas Spirit Was Contagious?

by augopher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, city employee stiles, derek has no christmas spirit, librarian asst Derek, stiles has more than enough to share, volunteering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the fire, Christmas had just been another day (Season?) for Derek, but Laura signed them both up to fill Christmas stockings for active duty soldiers. He thought he'd hate it and the guy who ran the event. But that overly chipper, gorgeous man had a way of getting under Derek's skin and into his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Knew Christmas Spirit Was Contagious?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming/gifts).



 

Derek walked into the warehouse and saw every volunteer clad in Santa hats and red beaded necklaces. Garland ran around the room, looping from the ceiling in elegance. It wasn’t the cheap plastic stuff either. The whole room smelled like the inside of a cab filled with its stupid pine tree air-fresheners. The corner to his right held a massive tree, easily ten feet tall, decorated to the hilt with whimsical ornaments, most of them mice and birds, and instead of an angel to cap things off, a top hat adorned the summit of the tree. Dozens of people with their stupid smiling faces, blissfully sat, hard at work. There were easily thirty people in the room. It was nauseating. Immediately, he wanted to leave. No joke. Someone needed to get him the hell out of there right now. So, since no one else seemed willing, he turned and tried to save himself.

"Oh no you don't, Little Brother." Laura caught him by the back of his collar and yanked him  through the door.  "This will help you get into the Christmas spirit. You look like Scrooge."

"I feel like Scrooge." He mumbled under his breath. The room, the place, the smell of it, the garish colors--it was just too much, made his head spin.

"What was that?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Nothing. Let’s just get this over with. I can’t believe this is taking up my whole evening.”

Laura cackled. No joke. She legitimately cackled. “Not just this evening. I signed us up for every evening for the next three weeks. Don't look at me like that. It will be good for you. You need to make friends. All you ever do is go to work, come home and hang out with me. That's not healthy."

Derek crossed his arms across his chest in indignation. He hated his big sister right now. Really hated her.

“Good afternoon new Voluntroops, and thanks for coming to help fill stockings for our troops!” A bright voice interrupted Derek's sulking.

Derek tried to roll his eyes at the guy when he welcomed them. What a chipper asshole! And who the hell wore a Christmas button with a blinking Rudolph nose? However, he stopped himself just in time, thank god, because the guy was all kinds of beautiful. Too damn cheerful, but gorgeous nonetheless, with big brown eyes and a fringe of dark lashes that looked like angel’s wings. _Really, Derek? Angel wings?_

“Here you are.” He handed them each a hat and necklace. When Derek tried to refuse them, he frowned. “What’s the matter, Big Guy? Bit of a grinch?” He didn’t wait for an answer, choosing to stick the hat on Derek’s head for him. “Okay, names?” He tapped his marker on a couple name tags.

“Laura.”

“Nice to meet you, Laura. I’m Stiles. I’m in charge here should you have any questions? And you?” He asked Derek.

“Derek.” He grumbled.

“Sorry Mr. Frowny Face didn’t catch that. Ease up on the murder-brows. It makes you look like you want to eat me, like you’re the Big Bad Wolf or something.” Stiles grinned, but stopped when he noticed Derek’s unamused face. “Wow, no sense of humor. I’m joking. We’ll just call you Sourwolf.” He slapped the adhesive name tag against Derek’s shirt. “Follow me. We’ll get you set up.” Stiles led them around the warehouse and amongst the varied stations. “There are sodas and water over in back right corner. I think today we have pretzels too. There is dinner every night, as a thank you for helping. I try to bring in treats as often as I can, but that's all from my own money. Ah, here you are. This will be your table. You two will be filling these stockings with the items from each soldier’s Christmas List. The stockings already have names on them. Their letter to Santa is inside each one."

Derek groaned. _You’ve got to be kidding me. I bet he holds our hands too._ If only.

“Don’t roll your eyes too much, Sourwolf. They might stay like that. And wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”

Derek probably resembled a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He sure felt like one.

Stiles chuckled and stopped at an empty table. "You can find all the items sorted into baskets along that wall. I recommend taking these small baskets with you so you can grab multiple things at once. Speeds things up a lot.  Finish each bundle of stockings before you get more. They are grouped by squadron, platoon, company, and etc. Don't want the wrong stocking going somewhere it shouldn't. When these are done, put them back in the laundry basket stored under the table. Then bring it to Scott and Allison over there." Stiles pointed to a couple of people waving at him. "They are in charge of packaging. They hand the boxes off to our shipping king and queen. That would be Boyd and Erica. Wave at Queen Erica."

Derek did not wave back at the blonde woman in the short skirt, red leggings and Christmas sweater; her enthusiasm scared him. It was only a hair less than Stiles'. Seriously? Why was everyone so damned happy in here? Did they pump Valium in through the ventilation or something.

"Any questions?"

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Laura promptly covered it with her hand. "Ignore him. He'll probably ask a smart ass question just to be obnoxious."

Stiles covered his heart with both hands. "Be still my beating heart. You, Sir, are my kind of guy. Anyway, have fun. Feel free to sing along with the radio. A lot of us do."

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles' retreating back, but he didn't complain. Okay, so he had no Christmas spirit and Stiles had more than plenty to spare, but it wasn't as though Derek was against building Christmas care packages for the troops. They had to be lonely, separated from their families during the holidays. It was just--Derek hated the holidays. Christmas was a time for family, and it just served as a painful reminder every year how little family he and Laura had. By little, he meant it was just the two of them. Christmas just drummed up the memory of those they'd lost.

Simply put, Christmastime hurt too much to embrace. So he didn't.

He took a stocking from the pile and read the list for P.F.C. Sean Downey

_Deck of Uno Cards_

_Prepaid phone card_

_Socks_

_Honey Roasted Peanuts_

_Snickers_

_Earbud headphones_

 

The wall of baskets was frankly, a little daunting, and he wondered if someone, probably Stiles, had read every Christmas list, checking it twice just like Santa, making sure to purchase every item asked for. Some items must have come from donations. Derek did remember seeing fliers around town for Stockings for Soldiers. He was also pretty sure the high school held a bake sale to earn money for postage.

He'd contributed nothing and felt like a major asshole. That was okay. He felt like that most of the time.

Stiles hadn't been lying. Several people sang along to every Christmas song that played even if they couldn't carry a tune to save their lives; they knew every word, and sang with gusto. Derek cursed silently. If he had to hear "The Christmas Song" one more time, he was going to lose it.

Yet, as he filled his mind with the monotonous task of assembling each gift, he felt a little less miserable. Sure he had no family, but these had to brighten someone else's spirit. The evening flew by, and before he knew it, the music stopped, and the room filled with the sound of jingle bells.

"All right, Voluntroops. That's a wrap for tonight. We filled ninety-eight stockings tonight. Great work, everyone. For those of you where this was a one day thing, thank you so much for your time. Every little bit will help to brighten the holidays for our deployed service-members. For everyone else, I will see you when you're in next. Please help yourselves to cookies and hot cocoa on your way out. Drive safely." Stiles smiled and actually thanked everyone by name on their way out the door.

Derek hated Stiles and his stupid holiday cheer.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

To his surprise, the next day when he and his sister walked in, there were new name tags made up for them both. Instead of the 'Hello: My Name Is' ones from the day before, they now had plastic ones adorned with tiny little candy canes and gingerbread men around the border. Conversely, to his horror, it still read Sourwolf.

Stiles made them himself--told Derek as much the moment he walked in the door that day.

In the days that followed, Derek tried his best to keep up the grumpy facade, but as time went on, he felt it impossible to do. Two weeks into the volunteer work, Derek's resolve to remain indifferent and opposed to all things Christmas snapped, and he found himself smiling, joking with Laura as they filled the stockings. He even hummed along to the music on occasion.

If someone asked him point blank what had changed his opinion on Christmas, he'd have lied, responding with an 'I don't know.' However, he knew exactly what it was. Stiles had a way of rubbing out--off on him. Stupid Freud and his slips!

Yes, he initially thought the guy was cute. Now that Derek had seen the type of person Stiles was, the way he'd witnessed first hand how spearheading this effort thrilled the guy, he was pretty much infatuated with him at that point. But hell if Derek had the nerve to talk to him outside the standard pleasantries they shared.

Seriously, the guy's enthusiasm and love of the season wafted off him in waves. Each night before they all left, there were treats. He brought them all Christmas candy one day, the homemade kind, which Derek wholly suspected he also made himself. Nobody was that caring without an angle. Or at least...that's what experience had shown Derek. Yet, if anyone could make him believe otherwise, it was probably Stiles.

Derek hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days, his mind filled with dreams of his earnest eyes, the color of gingerbread, and damn it--the man's Christmas spirit had infiltrated Derek’s subconscious now.

"Okay, spill it."

Derek looked at Laura, brows furrowed in confusion, as he carefully wrapped a deck of playing cards, tying red ribbon around the present. "Spill what?"

"You. This. The smiling, the humming, and don't think I can't hear you. It's weird, and frankly a little creepy."

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just enjoying spending time with you."

"Lies. You get laid and not tell me about it? What's his name?" She paused. "Her name? Wow, you haven’t wanted to be with women in years. This...this is big."

Did he mention that he hated his sister? He did? Well he was going to say it again. Derek hated Laura, especially right then. Still, he did not indulge her further, just went back to compiling items for MSgt David Rodriguez, who really only wanted dominoes, Oreos and a pound of good French Roast. When he returned to his seat, he found a cup of coffee. "What's this?"

"Oh, Stiles bought us all coffee. He's such a sweetheart."

Derek was pretty sure she didn’t hear his agreement.

"I mean it's only black coffee with cream and sugar if you want it, but still, nice gesture."

Derek took a sip from his coffee. It was definitely not just black coffee. No, he found himself enjoying a nice almond latte with extra whipped cream. How in the hell did he- Derek looked at the cup and found writing sticking out from under the sleeve wrapped around the cup.

Hiding it from Laura, he read the words:

_Derek, I thought you could use some extra cheer. Don't worry, I haven't been stalking you._

_I was just in line behind you the other day and remembered your order._

_See, I thought you were just grumpy, but good coffee can do wonders._

_Sit with me during dinner break? You're the only one here who hasn't joined our table at least once_

 

"I saw that."

"Saw what?" He snapped at his sister, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"That little blush. Someone leave you a love note on your coffee?" She smirked making kissing noises at him.

"I hate you."

Laura clapped him on the back. "No, you don't."

Derek tried to concentrate on his work, but found his thoughts drifting to Stiles and...dear God what was the man wearing today?

Stiles flitted around the room refilling bins with goodies, delivering full baskets of stockings to empty tables, and making small talk with the rest of the volunteers-sorry Voluntroops. Instead of his usual flannel layered over various superhero T-shirts, he wore the most obnoxious sweater Derek had ever laid eyes on. The thing was a damn eyesore. That's what it was.

It was blue, which in itself would not be bad, if it weren't for the twinkling LED lights sewn into the shirt. Derek guessed they were supposed to be stars. And what the hell was that? Was that a robot wearing a santa hat fighting a T-Rex in sunglasses for a gingerbread man holding a Nutcracker doll? He squinted to get a better look, and yes it definitely was. The sleeves had garland around the cuffs and little felt ornaments dotted themselves around the collar.

The guy looked utterly ridiculous. By ridiculous, Derek meant absolutely endearing and he just wanted to kiss that smile off his-- _What the hell Derek? Get ahold of yourself. You are a grown ass man, not a teenager with a little crush._

When the all too familiar sound of jingle bells carried through the room again, Derek set down his work and went to stand in line for pizza. His stomach growled as the line moved at a glacial pace. By the time he finally got to the table, he found his options limited to the last two pieces of sausage. He scanned the room for Stiles, only to find him at the table nearest the door, sitting by himself.

"Ah, honestly, I didn't think you'd actually take me up on my offer, but I am thrilled you did." Stiles gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, sit."

"Thanks."

Stiles looked at Derek's plate. "Did you get enough to eat?"

"These were the only two pieces left."

His jaw hung open in shock for a moment. "Oh my God! I ordered enough for everyone to have three pieces if they wanted. Who the hell broke the rule? Jackson probably." He grumbled under his breath, "inconsiderate asshole." The cheerful smile returned to his face. "Sorry. It’s just I try to make things fair for everyone. Wait, sausage...you're not Jewish are you? If you are, I will gladly go out and get you something pork free- or vegetarian...you eat meat right? See this is precisely why I ordered cheese pi-"

Derek cut him off. "No, and no. Sausage is fine. Thank you." He took a bite. _Not as good as the pizza in New York. Don't be an ass, Derek._

"So," Stiles wiped his mouth and took a quick drink from his can of Coke, "what's your story? Why the Grinch vibe? Though don't think I haven't noticed you joking and smiling over there with your sister."

"Um...I'm not a Grinch." Derek paled as he picked at his pizza.

"Don't want to talk about it? That's fine. I used to be a lot less...what's a good word?"

"Festive?"

"Oh man, festive is a great word! Right. Christmas was my mom's thing. When she died, my dad and I became one of those families that had Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for Christmas dinner. Our tree was one of those two foot ones you sit on a table. Pretty pathetic now that I think about it."

"So what got you back into the spirit?"

Stiles sighed. "I was helping my dad set up a couple squirrel traps in the attic last year and found her boxes of decorations. I'd forgotten about them. There were so many beautiful handcrafted ornaments she inherited from her parents when they came over from 'The old country' as they liked to call it, and I guess, it just reignited my passion for spreading the cheer. Well, actually I guess I just feel I owe it to her to celebrate in the way she did after just ignoring it for so long."

Derek nodded as he took in the words. "Christmas is just painful for me. Laura and I lost our whole family this time of year. I see no reason to celebrate."

"I remember my dad responding to the call about the fire. I was nine I think."

"Yeah."

Stiles leaned forward and covered Derek's balled up fist with his own hand. "But I think my cheer is rubbing off on you. You're wearing the hat today, and on your own volition."

Derek chuckled. "So it would seem.  You organize all this?"

Stiles' eyes lit up like the Christmas tree in the corner. "Sure did! My friend since I was like three, Heather, enlisted after high school and just finished her second tour of duty back in September. I sent her little care packages all the time, and they always made her so happy.” He smiled.

“That was nice of you.”

“What? No sarcasm. Who are you and what have you done with the Derek I’ve come to know and love?”

Derek choked on his pizza.

“Easy there, Big Guy. Anyway, then I remembered that there are organizations that do that all the time. I thought if they could do it all the time, why not Beacon Hills for Christmas. I started writing proposals for this project over a year ago. You would not believe how much work it's taken. You have to write the USO, try and get grants and donations from companies and sponsors.  I did get game donations from Hasbro and Mattel. That was a big help. Mrs. Walker’s quilting circle made all these beautiful stockings for us. Then there was the bake sale and donation drive. I'm surprised we got the turnout we did. Two thousand stockings to make. It's hard not to be chipper when you're actually making a difference." He finished off his soda.

"Do you do non-profit work all the time?"

"No. I work for the town Chamber of Commerce. You?"

"Work at the library."

"Oh man. How I have never seen you there then? I am there all the time."

"Rare book room curator’s assistant." Derek nodded.

"That explains it. I’m not allowed in there. Apparently, I am clumsy and I flail too much.”

Derek laughed. Genuinely laughed, the kind that made hardly any noise, but shook his shoulders and eventually turned to wheezing.

“What?”

“There is a sign in the curator office that has a stick figure in the middle of falling down scrambling for purchase but grabbing a first edition Dickens on the way down. It says ‘Don’t let in the sheriff’s kid.’ That would be happen to be you would it?”

Stiles feigned insult. “Why Derek, I am hurt!”

Derek smirked and finished his pizza. “I didn’t make the sign. Just always found it funny and wondered who the hell the sheriff’s kid was, well besides obviously the sheriff’s kid. Because anyone that can manage to irreparably damage a priceless book just by falling down is probably worth knowing.”

“I’ll have you know, I could have sued them over the loose carpet which caused me to trip in the first place. I broke my arm in that fall. But I didn’t sue, because I’m not a jerk!”

“No, you’re not.” Derek said quietly while blushing.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “Why Derek, I didn’t know you capable of such niceties.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” He stood and deposited his plate into the trash, can in the recycling bin.

When he left that night, Derek’s steps felt a little lighter.

 

*   *   *   *    *

 

Like the reluctant jackass he was, Derek didn’t make a move. Now, there he was on the last day of volunteering, still pining from afar.

“If you don’t say something today, I am doing it for you. This lovesick thing you have going on is actually making me physically ill. It’s like too much syrup on my pancakes sweet.”

Derek secured the last piece of tape to a wrapped harmonica. “Shut up, Laura. You know I have trouble with this.”

She ruffled his hair, earning a playful swat of his hand. “I know, which I will never understand when you have a face like yours.”

“Oh my god! I love this song!” Derek heard Erica cry from the far end of the room. “Turn it up!” She linked hands with Allison and started dancing. “ _Well, way up north where the air the gets cold, there's a tale about Christmas that you've all been told_ \-- Take it Ally.”

Allison grinned. “ _And a real famous cat all dressed up in red,_

 _And he spends the whole year workin' out on his sled_.”

Scott and Isaac, (the guy in charge of handing out stockings) or at least that’s what Derek thought his name was, joined in on the chorus. Derek shook his head at the impromptu Beach Boys rendition happening in the room. He thought they all looked ridiculous, especially when Boyd, who was easily four inches taller than Derek, started using his pair of scissors as a microphone. That was until Stiles jumped onto his table and took over the second verse.

_“And haulin' through the snow at a frightenin' speed_

_With a half a dozen deer with Rudy to lead_

_He's gotta wear his goggles 'cause the snow really flies_

_And he's cruisin' every pad with a little surprise.”_

Stiles couldn’t sing a note, literally so off-key he was probably on key in another universe, but Derek, the idiot sat there, his chin resting on his hands as he watched enrapt. Stiles even began dancing on the table. At least his dancing skills were better than his singing, but only just.

"What’s wrong with your face?”

Derek didn’t hear her.

“Hello? Earth to baby brother.” Laura waved her hand in front of his face. “Anyone home?”

Her gesture got his attention this time. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A) How can you stand listening to this? B) You have heart-eyes. Do something about it.”

The song drew to a close, and Stiles, still atop the table waved for the group to quiet down. “And with that- I declare this project a success, because Kira, here, just finished filling our last stocking for Senior Airman Rebecca Greene. I am so grateful for all your help in this endeavor. Know that your hard work will go a long way for our active duty soldiers away from their families during the holidays. I can’t begin to thank you enough. Some of us are going downtown to partake in the opening night of the Christmas Carnival to celebrate the culmination of our project, and you are all welcome to join.” In a way only Stiles could, he stumbled as he attempted to climb down from the table.

Derek, and he didn’t know how he managed to get over there in time, caught him before he hit the floor.

“Er...thanks, Derek. I totally understand the sign in the rare books room now. How anyone is this clumsy I will never know.” He adjusted his sweater, yet another ugly Christmas one, but nowhere near as epic as the dinosaur fighting the robot one. “So how did you like the song, Derek? I can’t sing to save my life, but it’s the commitment to the performance right?”

“You can’t? I didn’t notice.” Honestly, Derek really had overlooked that. Throughout the song, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stiles and the way he commanded the room.

He flushed. “You flatter me, and now you’re smirking. Jerk.”

“Is that your favorite Christmas carol?” Derek asked.

“Nope. That glorious distinction belongs to Fountain Of Wayne’s ‘I Want An Alien For Christmas.’ It’s like the band reached into my nine year old brain for inspiration. You?”

Derek averted his eyes. “I’m not big on Christmas music.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He rolled his eyes.

“But I feel a connection to Judy Garland’s version of ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ though.”

“Can you say boring?” He laughed, the sound of which filled the room.

Derek stared down at his shoes. “It was my mom’s favorite. She sang it all the time.”

Stiles face fell, and he looked contrite, as if he felt like the world’s biggest asshole. “Um…”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to not like something, Stiles.” Derek fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “Anyway, this is probably going to sound stupid,  but I was wondering, if maybe, I don’t know…”

“Yes?” Stiles leaned forward on his toes, hopeful about the words over which Derek struggled.

“Go out with me.”

“That wasn’t a question.” Stiles chuckled.

“Well if you’re going to laugh at me, then I will just go.”

Stiles caught his arm. “I’d love to. I thought after my coffee attempt at flirting flopped on its face, that I had no hope.”

“What? No, that was really nice of you. It was good coffee.”

Stiles shrugged. “Wanna be my date to the Carnival tonight?” Derek blushed as a big grin spread across his face. “Oh wow, Derek. You need to do that more often, but warn a guy first. Could take someone’s breath away with that smile. Anyway, I have to pick up my dad from work, but meet me there? By the ice sculptures? Say seven?”

“Absolutely.” He stood there dumbfounded for a good two minutes after Stiles left.

“Aww, does my wittle-bitty brother have a date?” She pinched his cheek. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut up, Laura.” He’d say he hated her, but right then, not much could dampen his spirits.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek stood in front of a sculpture of an angel, admiring the intricacy of it. The thing almost looked like it was flying, and wow, he wished he had any artistic talent at all. In his attempt to drive out Christmas from his life, he forgot how beautiful strands of lights looked glistening back at him from where they rested in the boughs of the evergreens. Swaths of red velvet ribbon connected the posts of the cast iron fence to a peak above the carnival. Where they met formed a giant bow, which seemed to float above everything. How did they do that? Wires? Most likely.

He’d arrived early, of course he did. It was a chilly evening, colder than usual. _Thanks Laura. Why did I need to get here 30 minutes early?_ He blew into his gloved hands and rubbed them together. Yeah needed to move around. So he wandered away from their meeting point to take in the scenery.

Though the Christmas Carnival had been an annual event for ten years, he’d never gone. Now, looking around at everything, he kicked himself for shutting out the season for so long. It was really quite something. Small stands sold artisan wares and gifts, and he could not keep himself from buying handmade lavender and rosemary soap for Laura. For the customers that wanted it, Mrs. Wemberly personally gift wrapped each purchase in plain brown paper and colorful raffia ribbon. How did he miss all this town had to offer? And where in the hell did they find reindeer available for a petting zoo?

A small Santa’s village had been set up for the kids, adjacent to the petting zoo. Little tables with small crafts and games were supervised by Santa’s “Elves,” who in reality appeared to be all high school students. Little food carts intermingled with all the festivities. There was even bingo being offered in a heated tent (That went on his to-do list for later).

He checked his watch. Five to seven. A broad smile crept across his face on the walk back to the ice sculptures, where he waited for another twenty-five minutes before he started to feel like an idiot who had been stood up.

Stiles came up the path. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! First my dad would not stop talking to one of his deputies, like I had no idea he was that adept at small talk. Then my boss held me up to 'talk'. I am so sorry I’m late, and I am thrilled to pieces you didn’t give up and go home. I would have called, but we were dumb and didn’t exchange numbers, and yeah I could have looked yours up from the volunteer sheet, but hello! Invasion of privacy.”

Derek chuckled. “It’s okay. Everything okay with your boss? I mean you weren’t getting yelled at or anything?”

“Nope.” Stiles let the ‘p’ pop off his lips. “Friendly chat about the charity work.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows rose in interest.

“Yeah.”

“Do you...want some hot cocoa or something? I passed a cart earlier. Come on.” Derek led the way and tried not to completely fall apart when Stiles slipped a gloved hand into his.

“This okay?” He asked after feeling Derek tense up beside him.

“Yeah, just surprised me.” They took their place in line for drinks.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be.” He shivered. “I wish I would have run home for a thicker coat.”

Derek thought over his action for a moment before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around Stiles’ neck. “How’s that?”

“How are you- I take back every horrible nickname I gave you. Yes, that’s a lot better. Thanks.”

At that moment, Derek realized he still had his hands on the ends of the scarf. They exchanged looks, as though Stiles dared Derek to keep his hands there, resting against his chest. However, Derek blushed, gave a shy laugh, and broke eye contact, which sent both of them into little fits of giggles. Only the cashier’s voice brought them out of it.

“What can I get for you?”

Derek perused the menu. “Is the Mayan a little spicy?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll have a medium one of those with extra whipped cream. Stiles?”

“Um...I will have….the…”

Derek watched him play ‘eenie, meenie, miney, mo’ with his options.

“I’ll take the Aloha please. Medium’s fine.”

Derek stopped him when he tried to pull out his wallet. “Date remember?”

“I can pay for myself, you know?”

“Maybe pay for food on the next one.” Derek hoped his expression conveyed hopeful, but who knew with his eyebrows. Sometimes they just did what they wanted. Traitors, they were absolute traitors.

“Oh, so you think there’s going to be a second date?”

“I’m enjoying this one so far, so I’d like there to be.” He took the two cups of cocoa and handed one to Stiles.

“Me too.” He took a sip.

“You have, um...on your lip. Just there.”

Stiles dragged his hand across his lips. “Did I get it?”

“No. Just...um can I?” He waited for Stiles to nod before wiping away the chocolate with his thumb. He blushed and tried to pull away, but Stiles caught his hand.

“Never would have taken you for shy.”

“Not shy. Just awkward.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose. “You awkward? Sure. I don’t know if I believe you.” He joked.

“When it comes to dating? Yeah. Apparently, I’m not very friendly and my eyebrows make me look like the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” He gave Derek a playful shove. “I’m just going to have to make you suffer through Christmas Bingo later.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

Derek’s answer surprised him. “Really? No snarky rebuttal?”

“Actually, I was going to suggest it if you didn’t.” They stopped near the stage. “So do they have little concerts or something?”

“I think so. Come on.” He dragged them over to a bench to drink their cocoa, and Stiles tried not to let how giddy he felt show when Derek sat down next to him, sitting so close, he could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Ladies and Gentleman, can I have your attention please?” The mayor announced from the podium. “I’d like to welcome you all to the 10th Annual Christmas Carnival, our biggest year yet.” Applause broke out amongst the crowd.

“How’s your drink?” Derek asked.

“Really good. The toasted coconut is a nice touch. Yours?”

“Delicious. I like Mexican chocolate a lot, so this is great.”

“Today also marks the completion of Stockings for Soldiers. I don’t know if he’s here tonight, but if you see Stiles Stilinski, make sure you thank him for the great work his campaign has done for our servicemembers. Thanks to his efforts and that of the dozens of your fellow townspeople, 2000 thousand soldiers will receive a Christmas package from the citizens of Beacon Hills.”

The mayor’s words caught Stiles’ attention. “I had no idea he was going to do that.” He groaned, tossing his head back to stare up at the clear night sky. “That’s not why I did this.”

Derek patted his back. “Well yeah, but it’s nice to be thanked for your hard work.”

“I guess.”

The mayor adjusted his tie. “I am also pleased to announce that after a year end meeting with the town officials, and through a generous donation, there is room in the budget to make Stockings for Soldiers into a full time charity year round.”

Stiles’ mouth hung open in shock. “That’s what my boss was trying to tell me?”

“Huh?”

“He said they were going to make me head of a special project, but didn’t elaborate. I just thought it was a promotion, not putting me in charge of an entire charity. Wow….that’s wow...I…”

“Take a deep breath. This is good, yeah?” Derek squeezed his shoulder.

“This is awesome!”

“So with all your help, we can continue creating care packages year-round, and sending stockings until those troops are home for Christmas instead of only in their dreams."

Stiles went quiet for several minutes.

“Are you okay?”

“I get it now, that song, your favorite song.”

“You didn’t know that was the meaning behind it?” Derek offered his hand and pulled Stiles up with him, tossing both empty cups in the trash.

“No idea. I am the biggest idiot. I called it boring, and I didn’t even know what it really meant, and I’m a jerk.”

Derek took both Stiles’ hands in his own. “You are not a jerk.. I don’t like jerks, and I like you. So therefore you can’t be-”

“I am. I made fun of you, and gave you that horrible nickname when you just didn’t like the season for very valid reasons, and I have this charity to run now, and I am a jerk, and I have no idea how I am going to manage year-”

“Stiles, you are not a jerk. You’re kind, and cheerful, and-”

“A big jerk.”

“Shut up.” He grinned.

“Oh yeah? Make me.”

Derek fisted his hands in Stiles’ coat and pulled until their lips met. Tentative at first, the kiss soon melted away into warmth and curious tongues seeking out places to explore that they’d never been before. Stiles’ initial surprise gave way, and he wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, to hold him there forever.

Derek was pretty sure that, to anyone around them, it resembled a scene from one of those sappy Christmas movies. He didn’t care.

 

*   *   *   *  *

 

When February rolled around, Derek walked into the first volunteer event for the new charity with a smile and with enough cheer to rival Stiles’ own.

 

 


End file.
